Page 31 of Head Room
He pulled back his temper.
“I can’t say it won’t be dangerous.You’re all fighting men, so you’d know I was lying if I said different.But it wouldn’t be battles like you’ve seen.And it wouldn’t be likethis.”
He’d made an impression with that final statement.He could see it by the way the men carefully didn’t look at each other, each holding his thoughts private.
All except that tall fellow in the officer’s tatters.His eyes were trained on two young soldiers—one a boy, the other not much older—who sat not far from him.Their features cast the two of them as brothers, though the older was obviously not as strong.Other men in the compound were thin, but this one, who should have been stepping into the vigor of full manhood, was more than thin.His skin was pale and he held his thin shirt across his chest against the cold.
“Mostly, it would be guarding the telegraph, protecting settlers when need be.”
The tall man turned to him.
“And the Union soldiers who are doing that duty now?”
His voice had the languor of the Carolinas poured over the iron of command.
“I don’t understand.”Kent had to stop himself from adding “sir.”
“With Confederates out there in Indian territory, those Union soldiers could be brought East to fight against the South.”
Muttering rose among the seated men like a flock of birds driven out of cover.
Damn it.He didn’t need all these men, but he needed some to fill in the Volunteer Infantry regiment they wanted to authorize out of Rock Island.
“I can’t say to that.”He looked at the tall man.“This offer applies only to enlisted men.No officers.The men who agree will be commanded by Union officers specially chosen for this duty.”
He turned back to the men he’d come to win over.A company of prisoners from Camp Douglas would be a feather in his cap.
“Companies of your fellow prisoners have already been raised to head west soon.”
Soon by Army standards, anyway.
The muttering quieted.Prisoners, just like them, had made the choice.Soldiers maybe from their own regiments, boys from their own towns.Sitting in another prison, freezing now and waiting to swelter come summer.If they lasted that long.And even if they did, watching friends die in the meantime.Confederates just like them, once pledged to the cause.Now they’d taken the oath of allegiance, signing on with the Union as the price of their freedom.
“So,” said the tall officer, “you’re offering these men a pardon and Union army pay in exchange for their honor.”
One last time he faced the soldier, he would have tried with all his might to kill on the battlefield.
“I’m offering these men a chance to stay alive.And that’s more than their honor or their cause can give them.”
CHAPTER ONE
March 1865
Nebraska Territory
“I’m cold to the core.”
“This ain’t weather, it’s hell’s punishment.”
“My chilblains got chilblains.”
Ransom Fletcher paid no attention.
The grumbling had become as much a part of his surroundings as the endless stretch of dun colored earth meeting a ceaseless, mercilessly blue sky.As unnoticed as the necessity of putting one foot before the other.As constant as the sting of wind burrowing into his nostrils, though not deep enough to blanket the smell of poorly washed men in unwashed wool.As familiar as Peter’s gait, stronger now, it seemed to Ransom.
But the smudge of smoke on the western sky wasn’t unnoticed, constant, or familiar.
It was something new.He didn’t like it.
